


What's One Kiss Between Enemies?

by legendtripper



Series: Sparrow's Speedrun Ships (OR: A Collection of Short Oneshots Examining Various Relationships) [1]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: A Narrative Palette Cleanser if You Will, Enemies to Lovers, Fluff, Literally Just a Character Study, M/M, Stakeout, but like, i wrote this in like two hours, no beta we die like men, speedrun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-11
Updated: 2020-06-11
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:07:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24659602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/legendtripper/pseuds/legendtripper
Summary: "Gavin snorts. "If it were up to me, I'd burn half this city to the ground." An unspoken postlude hangs in the air, intention dissolving into inaction on Gavin's lips."How could I forget, you believe every little inconvenience is a personal slight.""Trust me, Con, you haven't lived long enough to get the right sort of experience. You ain't like me yet.""What, hardened and relentlessly cynical?""I prefer 'wise in the ways of the royally fucked," but I suppose 'cynical' works too." He grins, lopsided and sarcastic, bumping Connor with a friendly elbow."OR: What is fact by day is far less permanent by night.
Relationships: Connor/Gavin Reed
Series: Sparrow's Speedrun Ships (OR: A Collection of Short Oneshots Examining Various Relationships) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1791100
Comments: 11
Kudos: 69





	What's One Kiss Between Enemies?

**Author's Note:**

> Just wrote this as a little drabble at the request of [DomLerrys](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DomLerrys/pseuds/DomLerrys). Hope y'all enjoy!

Gavin Reed has terrible taste in music.

Normally, this wouldn't bother Connor as much as it does, but _normally_ , he isn't trapped in the detective's car for hours on end with no sign of escape. Internally, he curses Hank's shattered immune system for confining him to two weeks of bedrest. Under any other circumstance, Connor would be engaging in idle banter with his partner, cheerfully noting the passersby and discussing the evening's dinner plans. Not staked out in front of one of Detroit's central banks, wishing he was anywhere else.

As it stands, however, Connor is sitting in the passenger seat of Detective Reed's modest two-door sedan, limbs folded in as close to his body as he can manage. He's already spied an alarming amount of trash littering the floor, and two inches to his left is a suspicious brown stain that Connor is relieved to learn, after a quick scan, is coffee. He had suspected Reed would be messy—his desk, even on the slowest days, looks like a war zone—but he failed to realize the extent of the clutter. 

Connor swallows, an unconscious gesture that he has no need for but indulges in anyway. Beside him, Detective Reed sighs.

_Relationship Status: Hostile._

Heavy techno makes the car vibrate, bass pushing through the air without a single regard for Connor's sensitive audio processors. If androids were capable of getting migraines, Connor is convinced he would have one. Beside him, Detective Reed snickers to himself, some inside joke Connor isn't privy to, before turning the music down to a blessedly softer volume.

"You ever heard Skrillex before?" Detective Reed asks with a self-satisfied grin.

Connor opens his mouth to respond, but the detective cuts him off.

"'Course you have, you got everything up in that ..." he gestures vaguely in the direction of Connor's head, raising an eyebrow, "I dunno, brain computer thing."

"It's a Central Processing Unit, Detective. Not quite a brain in the sense of what you're picturing."

Detective Reed rolls his eyes. "Yeah, well, it's where you do your thinking, right?"

Connor blinks. "I suppose so."

"Then it's your brain. Can't convince me otherwise."

Though he wants nothing more than to correct the detective's grievous oversimplification, Connor finds he doesn't have the energy in him. They're on hour five of the stakeout, and while Connor is—for the most part—unaffected by the time of night (nearly 4:00 a.m.), Gavin's vitals show signs of destabilization. Clearly, the lack of sleep is getting to him.

Connor finds it in his best interests not to argue.

_Relationship Status: Tense._

The silence of the car is almost deafening. Surprisingly, he almost misses Skrillex. At least then, he doesn't have to think about the way Gavin keeps glancing at him in a manner he probably thinks is inconspicuous. He almost looks like he wants to say something—something that _isn't_ one of his standard pithy insults—but nothing ever comes out. Instead, Detective Reed places a pair of binoculars over his eyes, scanning the block around them, before hissing through his teeth and drawing the binoculars away.

" _Fuck_ ," he groans, rubbing his eyes with his hands. "I need some fuckin' coffee."

"I wouldn't advise it, you need to keep your eyes on the target. Coffee would only distract you."

"Shut your trap. You don't even _need_ sleep, you plastic fuck." Reed scratches his stubble (Three days old, an eighth of an inch longer than he usually keeps it.) absentmindedly, pulse spiking erratically, despite the otherwise tranquil setting.

_Relationship Status: Neutral._

"I suppose I don't," Connor says slowly, spying the reflection of his LED in the window. _Yellow_. Clearly, Gavin sees it as well, as his brow furrows for a moment before he turns away to look through the windshield. Connor's LED reverts back to its usual blue. "Though, if I go without stasis for too long, certain ... _things_ will start to happen."

Gavin takes this information passively, as if turning it over in his mind. His lips purse, his standard tell for when he's really _thinking_.

"What sorts of things?"

Connor flicks his head in Gavin's direction.

_Relationship Status: Warm._

"I suppose," he begins, running various preconstructions in a manner of seconds, "I become ... illogical. Irritable. My social integration programming begins to malfunction."

"Christ, CyberLife even programmed sleep deprivation. Those fuckers think of everything."

Connor can’t find the humor in the statement.

In the seat next to him, Gavin tilts his head inquisitively. "How long?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"You know." Gavin shrugs. "How long does it take?"

Connor wets his bottom lip, tasting the remnants of caffeine from Hank's coffee cup, Thirium of an AP700 android, rainwater from a recent storm, stray particles of Gavin's sweat. Faint, but noticeable among the noise.

_Relationship Status: Friend._

"About three days, I suppose. Longer than humans, but not as long as I'd like."

"Yeah, yeah, you're a fucking workaholic, we all know this,” Gavin scoffs, though his usual malice is mysteriously absent.

Connor can't help the small smile that tugs at the corners of his mouth.

"You can't blame me for wanting to keep the public safe, can you?"

Gavin snorts. "If it were up to me, I'd burn half this city to the ground." An unspoken postlude hangs in the air, intention dissolving into inaction on Gavin's lips.

"How could I forget, you believe every little inconvenience is a personal slight."

"Trust me, Con, you haven't lived long enough to get the right sort of experience. You ain't like me yet."

"What, hardened and relentlessly cynical?"

"I prefer 'wise in the ways of the royally fucked,' but I suppose _'cynical'_ works too." He grins, lopsided and sarcastic, bumping Connor with a friendly elbow.

_When did Gavin start looking at him like that?_

Connor clenches and unclenches his hand, an unconscious gesture, entirely new to his deviancy. A nervous tic, he supposes.

_Relationship Status: Companion._

"That's not all, Detective."

Gavin's eyes sparkle in the light of a nearby streetlamp.

"Oh?" He shifts in his seat, hand moving from his lap to the divider between them. "Would you like to enlighten me?"

It's been three days, two hours, forty-seven minutes, and sixteen seconds since Connor has exited stasis. His social protocols are issuing alarming warnings, but Connor dismisses the popups the minute they enter his field of vision.

Gavin stares at him expectantly.

"Well," Connor says, copying Gavin's movement and leaning slightly closer, "I become more prone to ignoring my programming."

"Thought that came with the whole deviancy package."

Connor laughs. "I suppose you're right, though it varies from android to android. I personally tend to adhere to my protocols, when it seems relevant to the situation at hand."

Gavin leans back in his seat, ghost of a smile playing over his lips, focusing on some point in the middle distance. "Huh."

Connor's fingers twitch minutely.

"So what does you ignoring your programming entail?"

"I ... tend to make rather rash decisions, especially when ..." He swallows thickly. "Especially when those I care about are concerned."

Gavin turns in his seat, gently yet deliberately resting his hand—scarred and bandaged, two broken fingers slowly healing in a splint—atop Connor's. The scar across his nose is less apparent in this light, dark gash blending into the shadows of his cheekbones.

"Oh yeah?" he says, an air of challenge in his voice. "Like what?"

Connor blinks once, slowly.

His hand, synthskin rapidly retracting, finds the notch at the intersection of Gavin's neck and jaw, where it just seems to fit. His LED glows yellow in the darkness of the car.

_Relationship Status: Lover._

And then Connor is kissing Gavin Reed, soft and slow, under a half-burned out streetlamp, in the front seat of Gavin's mess of a car, and someone is sighing (maybe it's him), and someone else is unbuckling their seatbelts (maybe it's Gavin), and the bank is totally forgotten.

Because Connor is kissing _Gavin Reed_ , who's smiling in a way Connor didn't think was possible, not to mention kissing him back.

Gavin's eyes flutter open slowly, long lashes catching the moonlight, subtly beautiful to Connor's optical units.

"Heh," he marvels, hand sitting solidly at the base of Connor's skull, fingertips brushing the port just barely covered by the synthskin. "Like that, I guess."

Connor smiles, letting his forehead drop to rest against Gavin's.

"Yes, Gavin." He takes in the gray-green of Gavin's irises, picking out flecks of brown buried in their mica depths.

"Like that."

Gavin rolls his eyes.

"Just shut up and kiss me, yeah?"

Connor threads his fingers through Gavin's hair.

"With pleasure."

And he does.

**Author's Note:**

> Check out my other works!
> 
> Leave a comment if you're feeling generous!
> 
> Follow me on [Tumblr](https://legendtripper.tumblr.com/) (@legendtripper) or [Twitter](https://twitter.com/legendtripperb) (@legendtripperb)!
> 
> Have a lovely day!


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